


Happiness Is...

by ChElFi, gustin_puckerman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Captain Hill - Freeform, Developing Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2221842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChElFi/pseuds/ChElFi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gustin_puckerman/pseuds/gustin_puckerman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What makes you happy?"</p><p>Maria and Steve tip-toes around the subject and possibly stumbles onto something more. Post CATWS, MCU Compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt given by [the-hidden-eye](http://the-hidden-eye.tumblr.com) [on tumblr], that turns into something more as [captainhillshipper](http://captainhillshipper.tumblr.com) and I go back and forth with our own continuation after the other stops at a point [in the story]. Don't know where this is taking, but that's apart of the fun, isn't it?

 

Maybe he isn’t supposed to be here, he thinks. Maybe, out of all the places in the world, this is the last location he should be at. But. Steve gnaws at his bottom lips, thumbs flicking unsettlingly on the warm cup of hot cocoa, and his blue eyes glances at the clock — _11:58_ — before pausing on her.

She’s not looking at him.

Steve isn’t surprised.

"Maybe Natasha’s idea isn’t so bad. A few dates would be nice." She mentions casually — a little out-of-character, yes, but that’s all they’ve been lately, he ponders tiredly — and shrugs. "Go out, have fun. You should be happy, Cap."

"I’m not now?" He means it as a joke, of course. It doesn’t always comes out that way, he adds as an afterthought when she only frowns, silver eyes judging, but not quite.

"You’re at _my_ apartment. So.” She tells him with a little sting, and he might cringe at her respond, but he’s smiling too, because. Because. It’s the only thing he’s capable to do, maybe, around a pretty dame. Or a terrifying one. Maria Hill is certainly a lot of things, he muses quietly, taking a sip of the drink she’s prepared.

He watches as she chugs on her coffee, the radio playing a sad song from her kitchen. He doesn’t ask her to shut it down; _it’s nice_ , he looks around. _In a depressing way_.

"Are _you_ happy, Maria?”

The use of her first name surprises the both of them, but she hides it well, glances at him once. “Does it matter?” She tells him, and he doesn’t mention of the recent news confirming her father’s death which came to her this morning (and he only knows this because _Tony_ ), golden eyelashes looking down at the chocolate drink, another small humourless smile tugging on his lips.

Hypocrite, he doesn’t say, just as the fireworks boom and splashes across the sky from the outside. The radio drowns in voices congratulating America and laughter seemingly echoes throughout the country. Steve’s tempted to laugh as well, just for the heck of it.

She hums, nods. And, he squints, _is that a smile?_ tipping her cup his way, a form of cheer. A form confirming _yes_ , Maria Hill’s just as human as the rest of them. The rest of him. “Happy birthday, Steve.”

He smiles, genuinely this time.

"May he be better equipped than some of us messes." She shakes her head then, chuckling to nobody, swallowing her coffee and Steve bats his eyes, wonders.

He takes her hand, just because.

She pauses, hesitates.

"Thank you, Maria." And the world, he realises, is suddenly silent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should be editing my next chapters of my current stories but I read [this story](http://puckering-gustin.tumblr.com/post/96075628545/278-hypocrite-requested-by-the-hidden-eye) by [puckering-gustin](puckering-gustin.tumblr.com) this morning and another story came to mind that I could write while waiting at the bus stop for my school kid. :) Enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> **Setting: Post-TWS. MCU compliant. Therefore not part of my head-canon. Based on Sam’s question to Steve while at the VA in TWS.**

"What makes you happy?" Steve asked Maria.

He stared across the table of the cafe where they were eating what was becoming their usual Monday morning breakfast. Maria’s hand stopped it’s movement, the fork full of eggs hovering over her plate, for just a split second. He might have missed it if he didn’t know her as well as he did.

She finished bringing the fork to her mouth, then chewed the eggs slowly before taking a swallow of orange juice and looking up at him.

"Well, it used to be scaring the wits out of junior agents," she said, with a smirk.

Steve was silent as he waited for what he hoped would be an honest answer, though, in this matter he wasn’t sure he could get that from Maria.

She leaned back in her chair and wiped her mouth regarding him, with extreme caution, Steve thought.

"This is one of those serious questions," she commented.

Steve nodded.

"What type of happiness?" she asked.

Steve shook his head at her to indicate he didn’t understand. "Well, there are all sorts of happiness," she explained. "There’s the happiness of a beautiful sunrise. There’s the happiness of a job well done. There’s the happiness of, well, relational happiness."

It was his turn to give thought to her words.

"I guess I was thinking along the lines of something to do," he told her.

She nodded. "You mean after you find Barnes?" she asked. "What will you do with the rest of your life?"

Steve nodded.

"Assuming I find him," he replied. It was difficult to keep his hopes up. It had been more than half a year since he’d fought Bucky aboard the Hellicarrier in DC and he and Sam had come up empty at every turn.

"You won’t," Maria’s comment broke into his thoughts sharply. He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

"He doesn’t want to be found," Maria informed him. "If he did, you’d know where is was."

Steve felt Maria’s words like a physical pain. They confused him all the further because she had been nothing but supportive to this point.

"Steve, trust me," she said. "I know a thing or two about hiding, about going off the grid."

He turned back to her now and noted the sympathetic look on her face. "When he’s ready," she explained. "He’ll find you.” She smiled at him and Steve noted, not for the first time, that the way it softened the usual hard lines on her face stirred something in him, and always made him smile back. Today she reached a hand across the table to take his, ostensibly in comfort, but Steve felt the warmth there and held her proffered hand gently, but securely, not wanting to lose the contact just yet.

They sat together for several moments, staring, and Steve thought how like gazing into a lover’s eyes this must be. There was a flash of something in Maria’s eyes, but she turned away before Steve could make even a guess as to what it was.

"I need to get to work," she said, pulling her hand from his.

He regretted the loss instantly.

"I’ll see you next Monday, if not sooner," she remarked as she stood. Steve stood with her and walked around the table to help her with her coat.

She smiled over her shoulder at him as he pulled the coat up around her shoulders, allowing his hands to longer a moment longer than necessary.

Then she took up her purse and they said their goodbyes.

Steve sat down to finish his coffee and think on her words. It was several minutes before he realized that she had never answered his question.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has unimaginably became a collab writing with [captainhillshipper](http://captainhillshipper.tumblr.com) without any clear objective to where this plot is taking whatsoever. So. Let's see how that'll goes.
> 
>  **Also** : Heavily influenced Barton/Hill [platonic] relationship in this chapter because _story development_.

 

"You know," Clint said, pushing some of the files in as the printer shook with a shrill screech, pausing, and then stopping altogether, indirectly making Maria's head swirled in ultimate discomfort. "I'm usually all in for these things, but what you're having here with Cap--"

 

"We're just friends," she repeated was has become a usual mantra, stacked another paper and refrained the groan threatening to fall from the edge of her tongue, thinking, not for the first time, what is the damn guy even _doing_ here?

 

"Okay." The archer naturally replied without as much as guilt or hesitation in his manner, resuming his work on the shelves. Not that he should be doing it, but -- better having him do something rather than just stand there, you know? 

 

Maria sighed.

 

"So, did you tell him?"

 

This time, she didn't bother trying to ignore him, knowing full well she wouldn't succeed if she did, and dropped the paper she was analysing down, pressing it flat across her desk. She tapped her finger -- one, two -- licked her lips and arched an irritated eyebrow, sighing, "Tell who what."

 

"Steve. Rogers. Or whatever it is you're calling him nowadays," there wasn't a tone of mockery when he said it, unlike Tony who never seemed to just shake the topic off and let it be, but Clint wasn't exactly looking like he's ultimately comfortable with the subject either. Maria could have just easily categorised it as worry, maybe (if she hadn't known him better) even jealousy, but that wasn't the case. Unfortunately, she'd stuck with him for too long for her to consider it to be the case.

 

He flicked a file, brushed his dirtied hands on the top of his jeans, across his thighs and shrugged. "He doesn't know you're flying to Chicago?"

 

Maria paused. _Actually_ paused, and hesitated.

 

She didn't-- she stopped herself, blinked. Inhaling, her hand reached mindlessly over a stapler coolly and she hummed, acknowledging the archer's statement. "On the contrary to Tony's belief, Rogers and I don't actually spend our time together spilling all of our tragic backstory and discussing the right date to elope. So, no. Some things I do tend to keep to myself."

 

Barton laughed. As in, actual laughter with head tilting back, and Maria indignantly frowned at the act, narrowing her silver eyes sharply. The corner of his eyes crinkled, but his amusement wasn't entirely out of entertainment. This time, she _did_ detect a tinge of mockery shimmering in his movements somewhere. "You guys have been going out for like, what, a few weeks now? A month? Maybe _more_? You don't think Cap deserves to know that--"

 

"Barton."

 

"--you're going back home to arrange your dad's..." He trailed off, just like Maria half suspected he would, worn eyes looking back at hers worriedly, like he knew she was going to jump into a puddle of mistakes, and his words were the last efforts on convincing her otherwise. Except, of course, this wasn't some  _mistakes_. This was simply her father. Dead. And rotten. And ready to be buried.

 

Something in Maria twitched.

 

"He has. Steve's--" She sighed, giving up, and settled her vision elsewhere as she pictured kind blue eyes and polite smiles brightening up at the sight of her. Something squeezed hard from within her chest and Maria swallowed, dropping her chin a degree downwards, "He has nothing to do with this."

 

"But. Okay." Clint sighed, picking himself up on his feet and appearing nearly as frustrated (or confused) as she was, choosing to land his gaze on the scenery outside of her window. The silence lingered for a while, and Maria suddenly fumbled on the matters that she should have been doing. "Don't you. I mean. Dammit, Hill. Don't you think Steve-- Cap-- like, I don't know, _deserves_ to know this. I mean, at the very least."

 

Her silver eyes flicked over to his sharply, and Maria was momentarily confused between identifying the low rumble in her stomach as anger or guilt, until she settled with the former. Guilt had always been nastier to deal with, anyway.

 

"He'll know when he knows."

 

"Maria."

 

"I don't." She stopped herself again, thudding the stapler against the table harshly and forced herself to re-focus. She was better than this. She was _always_ better than this. So why was she-- she sucked in breaths, curling her fingers into her palm. "You've heard, haven't you."

 

It took him a moment, before: "Yeah. Of course. Tony haven't actually been keeping it a secret, and well, Natasha, God knows where she is, knows how to keep tabs. So."

 

Maria blinked once at the mention of the Widow and decided that any off-topic questions could be directed later when her eyes landed back on the same words that she's been trying to read for the last five minutes. _Jesus_ , something hissed at the back of her mind: _control, Maria_.

 

"So, Sharon huh?"

 

She barely nodded. "He finally did it." She said what she'd imagined Tony would've put as a joke. "I meant," she paused, "She finally said yes."

 

Maria knew, of course, of the story when Carter had rejected Rogers' offer while being undercover. Something like a lame smile carved across her lips at the remembrance of that, of the time when Rogers had finally decided to share her the (according to him) embarrassing details. It was a good morning, she decided, when he did.

 

Barton moved. "So, tonight right? Their date?"

 

Maria didn't nod this time. Instead, "Tell me something, Barton." She started, eyes straight to his, and jaw sharp as ever; the pen felt steady under her fingers, and she paused, pondered. "After what we've seen, what we've gone through-- _what..._ makes people like us happy."

 

"Well," he blinked, moving one hand to scratch the back of his neck and passed on a shrug. "Pizza's good," he began, "And musics that actually _plays_ an instrument and _has_ lyrics. That's good, too."

 

Maria couldn't help but to smile helplessly at that, knowing somehow she'd expected something like that to come out from his mouth. _These questions_ , she realised, were not something you asked a fellow like her, or him. Not after what they've gone through, all the secrets and bloods and manipulations they have to suffer.

 

Barton's chuckles died down, but the tired smile on his lips didn't vanish when he continued, sliding one thumb inside of his jean's pocket. "I don't know, Hill," he exhaled heavily, wetting his mouth. "Maybe it's the little things, you know?"

 

She looked at him mutely, blinking.

 

"We... we're such an abomination that... that I seriously think it must be some kind of miracle we're still standing here. So, I just. I don't know. It's the little stuff. It's the dog that yips at you at six when you went out jogging. It's the scent of coffee when it's ready once you're out of the shower. It's... night when you look outside of the window and something not tragic is happening. I mean. Don't you feel _happy_ at that? Content, at least?"

 

She considered it, if only for a moment, before sweeping a cool hand across her cheek; Barton, however, snorted, as though pulling himself out of a trance. "Where did the question come from, anyway?"

 

"It's just a question," she deflected, monotone, and crossed a signature on a paper.

 

"You're not depressed or anything, are you?" There's a joke, she thought, inquiring in his sentence, but Maria took no notice, mouth falling horizontally into a straight, unimpressed line.

 

She looked up. "No," only because it's the truth, or at least she thought it was, and wondered aimlessly, if only briefly. She imagined blue eyes again, smiling in her presence, and ignored the strange flutters clawing across her ribs; Maria slanted her eyes to her awaiting phone, finally settling with, "I just hope _he's_ happy with his choices."

 

Barton was silent for a second, before: "And people like us?"

 

"We'll live." She answered almost automatically, and didn't missed the humourless curl of his lips when she did. She knew she was right. She mostly always was. "Don't we always do?"

 

Barton didn't disagree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Maria has this inner complex mindset that her happiness is always secondary, and that, yeah, she might still be having a couple of problems coming to term with how exactly she’s feeling about Cap whilst dealing with her father’s burial (her father was found dead and was only now recently identified) & that Sharon Carter and Steve are going out. So that’s that.
> 
> In any case, I'm eager to see what _captainhillshipper_ has in store for the next update.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna let Bella deal with Maria's daddy issues. Hits a little too close to home for me. :D So, just a conversation between Steve and Tony post-first date with Sharon. Hope you enjoy it. :)

Steve took the beer Tony handed him from behind the bar. 

"Date with Sharon went well?" Tony asked. 

Steve smiled and nodded as he took a drink. 

"Yeah, she's pretty nice," Steve said. 

"Seems like," Tony commented before stepping around the bar and heading to the sofa. 

Steve followed him and sat down at the opposite end, stretching out his legs as he leaned back into the seat. 

"Did you do the dinner and dancing thing?" Tony asked. 

Steve nodded again and smiled. 

"Well, we did one of those cruises in the Upper Bay," he told Tony. "It was really nice. Sharon's, well, she's just easy to get along with. Good company."

Tony just nodded and took another drink of his scotch while Steve thought about the evening, Sharon's easy smile, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed. He had been so worried about how the date would go but Sharon had made him feel at ease. 

"Was it modern dancing or more like you danced when you were, well, you know," Tony interrupted Steve's thoughts. 

"Oh, it was more traditional," Steve said. 

Tony looked at him for a moment, as if he was trying to remember something. 

"You know, I thought I remembered something my dad or Peggy said once when I was a kid, something about you dancing or not dancing," Tony commented then shook his head. "I don't know, it was a long time ago. I think it was Independence Day here and they were reminiscing."

"Yeah, I never learned how to dance," Steve replied as he swallowed down the last of his beer. 

"Sharon teach you tonight?" Tony asked. 

"No, I learned a while back," he said. 

Tony looked at him a moment before going on. 

"Who taught you?" he asked. 

Steve thought it an odd question. What did it matter? But Tony was generally nosy like that so he answered. 

"Maria."

They sat in silence a few minutes after that until Tony commented. 

"Maria Hill?" he asked, as if the two mutually knew dozens of Maria's. 

"Yes," Steve replied. 

"Huh," was Tony's only comment. 

"What?" Steve asked. 

"She just doesn't seem the type to, well, do something as intimate as dancing with anyone," he said. 

Steve suddenly felt two feelings fight for dominance in his mind. The first was embarrassment at the thought of dancing with Maria being viewed as intimate. The second was perturbation at Tony for thinking so low of her. She was a human being with feelings just like everyone else. Sure, she was cold and stand-offish, but Steve had seen tears in her eyes as they watched Nick Fury "die." He'd heard the concern and fear in her voice as she questioned his command to fire on the Hellicarriers while he was still aboard. 

"Maria's not what you think, Tony," Steve said, his voice taking on what was probably a colder edge than necessary. 

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. 

"She just doesn't open up to anyone easily," Steve explained. "It's not a bad thing."

Tony nodded again. 

"And Sharon does?" Tony asked. 

Steve was taken aback for a moment by the shift in topic. He wasn't sure what Maria and Sharon even had to do with each other. 

"Uh, yeah," he said. 

"She tells you stuff, talks to you, shares her thoughts," Tony continued. 

"Yeah," Steve told him. "She's real, well, she just makes it easy."

Tony stared at him now and Steve began to wonder what was going on in the man's mind. After a moment, the billionaire stood and mumbled something about that being how he supposed it was was supposed to be.

Steve was confused. 

"Isn't that how it is, though?" he asked. "Love should come easy, right?"

Tony chuckled as he walked back around the bar to grab the scotch bottle and pour himself another drink. 

"So it's love between you and Aunt Peggy's niece, is it?" he asked Steve. 

"No, not yet," Steve defended. "We've only gone on one date."

Steve stood up and took his empty bottle back to the bar. 

"Still, you're thinking," Tony said as he wagged a finger at Steve. 

"Well, it might be nice," Steve said, slightly exasperated. 

He wasn't sure how this conversation had become, well, whatever it was becoming. 

"And isn't it supposed to come easy?" Steve asked again. "It shouldn't be difficult to share things with someone you love."

They were both silent for a moment. 

"When you're with the other person, they make you feel comfortable," Steve added. 

Tony's eyebrows both went up at that statement, then he gave Steve a hard look that the super soldier couldn't truly decipher before taking a deep breath. 

"I don't know, really," Tony told him as he let out the breath. "I've only been in love once. I do know what Pepper taught me about love, though. It's not just about how the other person makes you feel. And sometimes it's harder than hell."

Tony swallowed back the last of the scotch in his glass. 

"Well, I need to get to sleep," he suddenly announced. "I can't stay up all night with you young people."

He winked at Steve then headed to the elevator. 

"Gotta be read for Wednesday morning debrief with Maria," Steve stated jokingly as Tony passed. 

Tony turned at gave him an odd look, as if Steve should know something and Tony was surprised that he didn't. 

"Maria's," Tony paused. "She's taken some personal leave."

"Everything OK?" Steve asked, concerned. 

Tony looked like he might tell him, but in the end he just shook his head. 

"It's personal," he said as he turned back to the elevator. "You'll have to get her to tell you."

Then the doors slid open and he entered and was gone. 

Steve sat in the now silent room. He pulled out his phone to call Maria, but noted how late it was. He'd call her in the morning. 

He left for his own apartment and readied for bed. As he stared at the ceiling he recalled his evening with Sharon with a smile. It really had been a lot of fun. So why, he wondered later, did he dream of the time Maria taught him to dance in the little safe house in Jakarta?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so this wasn't "just a conversation." This was Tony trying to get Steve to think about Maria. And he already knew who'd taught Steve to dance, though I won't say how since I might use it later for part of the story.
> 
> My MCU Tony is forever playing matchmaker for Maria. I think it's because my Tony realizes they are similar in that they've both been hurt and they both try to keep people at arms length, they just go about it differently. And, now that he's found happiness with Pepper, he wants other people like him to be happy too. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Maria meet again, and part ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer than I expected. Also, Barton makes a random cameo at the end. _Don't_ ask me why. He just does, alright.

 

Maria told herself that it wasn't a smile that's warming up on her face as she stalked herself down the narrow way to his apartment, the door left ajar thanks to an old box filled with worn shoes slipping in between the wall and the door, making it impossible for the wooden thing to be shut completely. She heard collections of huffs and stuff being shuffled together as she came closer, one hand already extended out to push the door even further.

 

She knocked-- twice.

 

"Maria." He breathed out, surprised, spinning around right after dropping a box onto a corner against the wall, his blue eyes brightening up with the delighted smile he usually performed whenever he identified her. Maria's long gone since analysing it to be an abnormal occurrences, having to face it several times already.

 

It actually felt, you know, _nice_.

 

In a very strange, kinda disturbing way.

 

She only glanced at the door she's keeping open with one hand, blinking once coolly. "For someone who's practically being targeted by several organisations, you sure know how to secure your own safety, don't you, Rogers?"

 

"I'm pretty sure I can handle myself, ma'am," he gave out, quirking up a lopsided smile that'd made something from Maria's stomach shook uncontrollably, and it was _not_ , unfortunately, because he'd just called her _ma'am_ , although yes, not to say that she wasn't completely unbothered by the term, because she was. She always was. He rubbed his hands at the back of his pants then, straightening up his posture as the smile on his face only lengthened, presenting row of straight, perfect white teeth, "Actually, I got a few more boxes coming in, but, I guess, Clint… decided to wonder off?"

 

"Well it _is_ lunch hour," she answered back almost stoically, kicking the box of shoes away and gently closing the door. "He's either too distracted by the food, or there's a dog that caught his attention. Either way, I estimate he won't be here for at least the next half an hour. How long have you been at this, anyway?"

 

"An hour, at most." He absently nodded to himself, looking around the room. There's dust coating one side of his jaw, she noticed but didn't say. He casually came closer, golden eyebrows now tugging together in kind concern, "What are you doing here, Maria? And how would you know I'd be here?"

 

"I got your texts, and one missed call." She showed him her phone without lighting it up, moving to the counter which separated the kitchen and the living room. It really _was_ a small apartment, she thought considerably. Appropriate, she supposed, for a bachelor who's living on his own. Well, _supposedly_ anyway. "JARVIS informed me where you are. Or, well, where you _might_ be. I just took a guess and decided to see if I'm right."

 

"Which you are."

 

She kind of smirked at that, just a little bit. "Which I am," Maria agreed, now unbuttoning the cuffs of her sleeves to her business suit in the intention of rolling it up to her elbows. "I was at a meeting this morning. Didn't even realise I got texts until it was over. You require something?"

 

"Yeah, I just. I was--" He squinted his eyes then, confusion bled through his expression while he pursed his lips, his gaze dropping to her hands that were reaching for a box. "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm operating for a kidney transplant, Rogers. What do you _think_ I'm doing?"

 

"That stuff is _heavy_ , Maria."

 

"I've lifted heavier stuff." She shook her head quickly afterwards, "Don't argue with me on this, Cap."

 

He nodded mutely after several quiet seconds, approaching her by the end to lift the box from her grip so he could put it where he'd wanted it. She exhaled a sigh of relief as the load was carried away from her, silver eyes wandering about to cover every inch it could take of the place. She'd seen it before, of course, but still. "You're very lucky, you know," she stated without really thinking so, smoothly putting her hands on her hips, "Not a lot of landlords would've reserved a place for a year for someone who was dead set on leaving New York fourteen months ago."

 

"Well, _Grace_ is a nice woman, for one." He corrected her as she raised her eyebrows at that -- _figures!_ Her expression seemingly saying -- and watched him shrugged. "And, I wasn't deadset. It was Fury who stationed me to DC."

 

"But you didn't hate it either." She mentioned naturally, giving him a blank, calculated stare. "You _hated_ this apartment, though. Sitwell made it a point to mention it several time in the reports of your acclimation."

 

"I _hated_ it because I'd found a bug every other two weeks, Maria. It's kind of hard to wake up after seventy years and be expected to trust an organisation who can't even leave you and your mind alone for _two_ seconds." He spat out without any true anger in his tone, raising one eyebrow in return as though challenging her. Maria, however, only sent out a dry expression, blinking once-twice, before dropping her gaze on the few already set-up electronics.

 

There's no point trying to defend, she supposed.

 

"But you decided to come back here, anyway." She decided to respond instead, now moving to a smaller box atop of the kitchen's counter with easy, professional footsteps. "Moving in."

 

"Not permanently." He said what she'd already knew, leaning his waist against the back of a chair, cool gaze steadily watching her. "I've already got a floor at the Tower, this is just..."

 

"A place for you to run away when you needed a time-alone." She finished, picking up a single frame of the Avengers which Barton must have managed to take a year or two ago, judging from everyone's hair. Her silver eyes flicked on the familiar face and blond locks smiling at the camera -- his smile was a little forced then, but there's contentment to his expression, which was rare, since he'd been clinically diagnosed with depression those years back -- and Maria fought her own smile from overtaking her face. 

 

It's just a picture. Nothing to be silly about.

 

"Getting tired of my apartment huh, Captain?" She decided to tease, sparing him a quick seductive glance over her shoulder before placing her attention back on the frame, putting it gently on the counter. 

 

He might be blushing. Maria was nearly certain of that.

 

"I... I don't think I'll ever..." He stammered, cleared his throat and looked away, one hand up and rubbing the back of his neck. "That's... you know that's not the case, Maria." He paused for a minute, most probably chewing the inside of his cheeks. He practised that sometimes, she took note. "I just--"

 

"You don't need to explain yourself to me." She'd said instead, moving to another box and removing the tape.

 

"Yeah, well. I just."

 

She dropped one box, startling the awkward atmosphere. "Tell me about Carter," she interrupted, setting herself on the floor as she began unloading the insides of the box one-by-one. "The date went well?"

 

"It did, actually." He smiled coyly at that, coming closer to her. "It was nice."

 

She gave him a look, nodded her head. "You're satisfied."

 

"Yeah." He chortled at that, resulting in him biting his own lips and Maria pondered, hid the slight tremble to her hands, and pursed her lips. _It's okay_ , she reminded herself. She's okay. "It went fine. We had a really wonderful evening."

 

"I'm assuming there's a second date in plan."

 

"There is." He's walking himself to the kitchen at that point, doing God knows what, and Maria resumed to strap the tape off the boxes. "But um, she's off to Boston this weekend, so, we're going out this Friday. It's a little early for a second date, I know, but uh," he swallowed then, must be smiling from the tone of his voice, and continued: "If it goes well, it'll go well. I'm just mostly hoping for the best, honestly."

 

"While expecting the worst?" She responded all-too-naturally, giving a glance at him from where she was to the kitchen. "Living the life, huh?"

 

Maybe he's rolling his eyes, she wasn't sure, when all she could manage herself to say was, "I'm glad you're happy, Steve. You, out of all people, should be."

 

 _After everything, after Bucky_ , she thought quietly.

 

"You know," he began and something crawled at the back of Maria's spine with the tone he's using. "You never answered my question."

 

"Which one," she smoothly responded, playing, as what Barton would have pleasantly called it, 'dumb'.

 

"You never told me what makes you happy," he sentenced it carefully, and there's a type of soft urging coming from his voice. 

 

"I don't think it matters."

 

"Maria."

 

She sighed inwardly, gathering back her proper thoughts. " _Why_ ," she began, setting up a mild glare towards his away, and frowned; continuing, "--is it so important for you to know."

 

"Because." He stopped, and Maria watched him gnawed at his bottom lips concernedly, genuine worry flushed over the lines across his face. He stepped out from the kitchen, one hand hovered over the counter. "Because," he began again, fluttering his eyes shut for point two seconds and licked his lips, "you _matter_ , Maria. Don't you understand that?"

 

She gave him one hard, long look, before: "You worry about me too much, Steve. I know how to take care of myself."

 

"I know you can." He let out, "God how I _know_ you can. But."

 

"Don't do this," she said instead, shaking her head forcibly. "Don't..." She fixed her jaw and hardened her gaze, if only to strengthen whatever courage that she could feel gradually slipping away. "Don't mess your head around about me. Just--" she hesitated, "-- _don't_ , okay. I'm fine."

 

His steady eyes on her lingered longer than it should, and Maria had to swallow hard and keep herself up guard as the moment stretched out; he exhaled then, shaking his own head straightly afterwards. "You're so stubborn, do you know that."

 

 _One of my best qualities_ , she'd wanted to comment but decided against it instead when she fluttered her eyes elsewhere, pausing to take in the sound of cars rushing through coming from the street below. 

 

"You should come by sometimes." He said suddenly, ducking his head a little to meet her gaze. She looked up. He gave the place a once-over, "The apartment. It'd be nice if you could."

 

"Just like you always do with mine?"

 

He didn't answer; she snuck a glance. There's a smile hinted in his eyes, shyly if she may add, and she squinted her amusedly at that. "I will," she coolly responded, picking herself up on her feet to meet with his handsome complexion. She pondered again on how nice it was to see him like this. And then: it was nice just _seeing_ him, she thought. She allowed herself to smile for a moment, just because.

 

"I should tell you I'm leaving for a while." She changed the subject, tucking a strain of dark hair behind. "Might take a couple of days. At most, one full week."

 

It took him a few moments, as though he was stuck in a trance, before managing out an answer. "Yeah," He ran a casual hand down the side of his head, fingers brushing his darkening blond hair, face turning a shade more serious. "Tony mentioned you're taking a leave. That was why I was texting you." Maria pulled up her phone, checking the time. She was supposed to be making her way to the airport, but. _But_ , that wasn't what's happening now, was it? _Dammit_ , she smiled pathetically to herself, just a little, thinking: she _did_ have a soft spot for this guy. Not that she didn't realise this earlier, of course. "Is everything okay?"

 

"It's fine." She managed out, clenching her jaw. "Just matters to be settled. Nothing I can't handle."

 

"Maria, if it's--"

 

"What makes you happy, Steve." She said instead, cutting him off, tugging on her white shirt. "Tell me," she repeated, dark eyelashes fluttering in sync, "what makes _you_ happy."

 

Silence hovered the air for a lengthy amount of time, and Maria watched his face turning from surprised at the sudden question to harsher, harder in expression. Like he knew something was wrong, and he's figuring out exactly _what_. Until--

 

"You're going now, aren't you?" He's standing just a few inches away from her now, chin dropping down to level their gaze together. "You're leaving _now_."

 

She'd wanted to roll her eyes. "You're making it sound like I'm breaking your heart, Rogers." She slipped up a small easy smile that she didn't often put on for the public, silver eyes looking for his usually calm ones. "You're going to be just fine."

 

He looked more heartbroken, she thought. If that was possible. "Is that why you came here for?"

 

"I told you," she gave out, serious. "I received your texts and missed call."

 

"But you could've just--" He stopped, bit his tongue and looked away, must be concluding up that there's no point arguing with her. There's always wasn't. She didn't smirk. Giving up, he sighed, brushing a hand down her arm, letting it lingered for a second. "Let me at least drive you."

 

She shook her head, beckoned to the messy room. "You've got plenty to do here, I'm sure." She looked at the door next, "Plus, I'm sure Barton'll show any seconds if he isn't already here." They're spies, or _were_ ; something like that should have been expected. "I've got to go."

 

"Maria."

 

"Zero contact." She quipped like a steady order, "If anything comes up, Stark'll know. Understood?"

 

"Yes, ma'am." He answered lamely, and Maria tried not to think hard on the frown he's currently expressing. _That didn't look like happy_ , something dryly joked at the back of her skull as she began to dictate her pace to the door. "Take care, Maria."

 

"You know I will," she gave him a professional, restrained smile, and the one he gave in return was out of grim, probably knowing that hers wasn't the most sincere he'd seen from her. He always did that, she pointed out mentally. Making those _faces_ when he knew she's not being completely genuine, especially when it's the two of them; especially when the act was directed towards _him_.

 

"And, if you must know," he said when her hand was on the knob of his door, his voice loud and clear and sombre, "Among other things, not seeing my friends sad, makes me _really_ happy. That, Maria, includes you."

 

Maria waited for a second. Then, two.

 

"I'll see you around, Steve," passing on a final cool nod, Maria finally exited herself from the small apartment, ignoring the temptation to lurch her breakfast out right then and there, only to be interrupted when a familiar, annoying voice coughed, announcing its presence as soon as the door behind her closed and her feet stepped completely outside of the apartment. 

 

"You could've let him drive you."

 

Maria wasn't startled.

 

She didn't think anybody would expect her to.

 

Barton came out from the shadow, hands tucked safely in his jean's pockets, his face was not one out of amusement. _Well_ , she thought, she wasn't exactly _smiling_ either. So. 

 

"It's better this way."

 

It was as though she hadn't said a damn thing in the first place when the archer only tipped his chin upwards, narrowing his sharp eyes accusingly at her. She continued before he could comment on anything more, "It might be more than a week." She told, indicating the amount of leave she'll be taking.

 

Something in his face's telling her that he already suspected that.

 

Go figure.

 

"Remember, I want zero contact."

 

"Is this the part where you ask me to take care of him? Because you _do_ know he's _Captain America_ , right?"

 

"Barton."

 

"How long?"

 

"I don't know." She ground out, annoyed. "Two weeks. Three. I need--"

 

"To get away?" The archer responded, "I kinda get that."

 

"Take care of my apartment," was what she said instead, moving herself to the stairs, knowing that she's already running late and lounging here with _Barton_ wouldn't help in anyone's part.

 

"Maria," he called out and she paused, hesitated. She's going to regret stopping, she'd no doubt about it. The archer waited, inhaled. "I hope _you're_ happy with your choices."

 

She smirked at that, thinking momentarily on how she'd needed a drink after this, definitely. "As long as he's happy with his."

 

He smirked too, just because.

 

She blinked, nodded. "Just do your damn job, Clint," finalising, Maria made her way downstairs and disappeared into the crowd.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End Note** : Maria finally leaving to Chicago but not before she drops a visit and decides to lie about the duration of her leave to Steve (she says she'll be going for a week, when in reality she knows it's bound to be more than that). Can't wait for Christina Elizabeth's [ _captainhillshipper_ ] next instalment because she made me immensely happy with the previous one. Seriously, kudos to her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for all the reads, likes, and reviews. Glad everyone is enjoying this. I've never done a colab before so it's a good experience for me. I'm so glad Bella suggested it. :)

The elevator doors slid open. Steve followed Sharon out and down the hall to her apartment door. He’d had another nice evening with her. Their third date had been just as good as their first two. Maybe it was as Tony had suggested a few days ago, familiar. While she didn’t remind him exactly of Peggy, there was that connection there, that sense of the familiar. Steve didn’t think that was a bad thing. Not these days, when everything was still strange, when Bucky was somewhere out there and Steve could do nothing more than hope that his old friend would come to himself soon and seek him out.

“I had a nice evening,” Sharon said, turning to him and looking at him somewhat expectantly.

“Me, too, Sharon,” he said and thought maybe he should kiss her.

But she gave him an odd look then and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, what?” Steve asked.

“What did you call me?” she asked.

Steve paused. He was certain he’d said ‘Sharon.’

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You called me ‘Maria,’” Sharon said.

She didn’t appear angry but Steve was mortified. How could he have been so stupid?

He mentally stumbled in his confusion before apologizing.

“I don’t know why I would do that,” he said.

Sharon looked at him sympathetically and touched his hand.

“Maybe you should figure out why,” she said. “Because it really didn’t surprise me as much it should.”

He gave her a confused look.

“You bring her up a time or two every time we go out, or when we talk on the phone,” she told him.

Steve felt his collar grow tight as he flushed with embarrassment.

“I do?” he asked.

He tried to formulate a defense for it. Didn’t he talk about other people?

“You spent a good fifteen minutes tonight expressing your concern over where she is,” Sharon said.

“Well, she said she’d only be gone a week,” Steve said. “And now it’s been nearly two.”

Sharon’s smile gave him pause and he just stared as he wondered what was going on in his head, and what Sharon was inferring.

“There’s nothing going on with Maria and myself,” Steve said, finally getting a slight rein on his emotions.

“Maybe not,” Sharon said. “But, well, maybe you need to think about what you really want.”

Steve wanted to say something to excuse himself, but he couldn’t find the words. What could he tell her? The truth was, Maria had been occupying a lot of his thoughts lately. He had tried to play it off as concern for her, but now he wondered.

He shook his head. No, there really was nothing. He was sure of it. Maria wasn’t even remotely interested. She didn’t do romantic entanglements, she’d once told him. Too many complications, she'd said.

“Steve,” Sharon broke into his thoughts. “You said you want to find what makes you happy.”

He looked at Sharon and tried to find a way to stop her. He didn’t have a lot of experience with relationships, but he knew a break up when it was about to happen, and the way Sharon was looking at him now told him more than her words would.

“I’m not sure if that’s really me,” she said. “And I think you’re not either.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, to tell her they hadn’t known each other long enough to be sure, but she cut him off as she continued.

“I know it must be very difficult for you, here in a place where you really don’t feel like you belong, nothing and no one familiar,” she said. “But I don’t want to be a replacement for my aunt.”

“You’re not, Sharon,” he interrupted.

He couldn’t let her think that. She was far too important.

“I know you didn’t specifically think that,” she said. “But there might be a sense in which I am familiar because of Aunt Peggy.”

Steve really didn’t know if he could argue with that; it was almost verbatim what Tony had said.

“You are a very kind man,” she said. “And I do wish there could be more between us. But I think you need to consider whether this is really what will make you happy, or if you want more with Maria.”

“Sharon,” Steve started, but she only shook her head.

“Goodnight, Steve,” she said, then turned and entered the apartment.

He stared at the closed door for several minutes. How could he have been so stupid to have done this? How could he make Sharon think she wasn’t who he wanted? That she wasn’t making him happy?

It was then he remembered the conversation on that first date, about looking for what made him happy. He’d relayed his discussion with Maria to Sharon and had lamented the fact he was never going to get an answer from her. But, that didn’t mean what Sharon inferred, did it?

He turned and headed down the hall to the lift. When he got back out onto the street, he eschewed a taxi in favor of walking. His bike was parked at the tower as he had intended to stay there this evening, but maybe he’d just ride to the apartment in Brooklyn, it might help clear his head, and he wouldn’t have to face any questions in the morning.

The walk had done nothing to help by the time he reached his bike so he made the decision to ride to Brooklyn. Along the way he tried, with difficulty, to keep from thinking about Maria. He realized now that he thought of her far more than he cared to admit. And then, of course, he even dreamed about her. He used to dream of Peggy, and of Bucky, and of the war. Since the events in DC he found he dreamed more of Maria, in fact, a lot of Maria, if he was honest with himself, which he used to be.

He stopped his bike up short at the corner when he realized what he had done. Looking to the end of the street, he saw Maria’s apartment building. Lowering his head, he groaned. This made no sense. She didn’t want him. Why would he do this to himself? Even with that knowledge, he found himself immensely disappointed that the window was darkened.

One week was what she’d told him. One week she’d be gone. She wanted zero-contact. He had assumed she must have been using the cover of “personal time” to hunt down some HYDRA agent. He should have asked to go with her. What if she was hurt or captured?

He shook those thoughts from his mind. Tony would have kept tabs, Steve was sure. They’d know if she needed them.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, he turned the bike around and decided he needed more than a drive to Brooklyn.

Four hours later he stood on the lower steps of the Jefferson Memorial and stared across the reflection pool as he watched the sun rise behind the Washington Monument. He heard someone approach but didn’t turn.

“On your right,” Sam said.

Steve chuckled and turned to his friend.

"And always glad you are," Steve told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, lobbing the ball back into Bella's court. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay. This story has attracted more attention than I initially estimated it would. So, thank you so much. Your flawless comments meant the world to both Christina Elizabeth and I. Really. 
> 
> **Note** : Skipping the timeline from a week to nine days, because I'm not very good at writing Wilson and I'd hate myself if I screw him up. (Maybe Christina Elizabeth could mention/bring [the Wilson-Rogers conversation] up in the next chap, who knows? huehueheh) Also, I've planned this scene ahead of time and I was looking forward on writing it for quite a while. So, apologies. Sincerely. If the update's not what you're hoping for.

Inspired by / Based on:

* * *

 

 

There's a twist to her gut when the cold bit into her skin. Maria pursed her lips and shoved away her tickets, passports, sunglasses before tugging on her jacket and pulling up the hood over her head. Her eyes were critical as it scoured through the dimming atmosphere, her fingers playing absently with the earbuds before she placed it well to her ears, and a foreign part of her, the _kinder_ part of her, privately welcomed her back to the city that never sleeps.

 

Maria naturally sighed.

 

"JARVIS," she called to the AI that has been installed into her StarkPhone (her _business_ phone) and waited a second before watching the phone vibrated and seemingly to light up nearly excitedly for the first time in, Maria dryly thought, forever. _It's been so long_ , she stared, blinked, breathing in the cold, brittle air.

 

"Miss Hill. Locating and confirming your current location at exactly 1845 hour, right now. Welcome back to New York. Would you like me to inform Sir or Miss Potts of your arrival?"

 

"Oh God, no. No." She shook her head a little at that, firm, and steadied her position, "Not handling Stark tonight. But. Yeah, I'll contact Pepper first thing tomorrow."

 

"Very well. First thing tomorrow, it is. Will you be coming back to work as well?"

 

It was as though Maria didn't need to think. "Maybe," it came out before she could stop herself; she closed her eyes, invited the cold again and exhaled out, one finger up to scratch the nose that wasn't itching. "Most likely. I don't know."

 

"Would you like me to contact anybody else, then?"

 

Maria didn't deny the first face which came to her mind at the AI's suggestion, but she shook her head at that -- blond hair, blue eyes, anyone? -- and pursed her lips, "No. I don't..." She swallowed, "Is Steve at the Tower?"

 

"I'm afraid the Captain hasn't gone to the Tower for a few days now."

 

"Exactly _how_ many days."

 

"Four, Miss Hill." 

 

"Dammit. Tell me Stark didn't lose Captain America." There's anger somewhere pounding in her chest, probably more than it should, but Maria quickly blamed it on the agitation she felt from the long hours diddling at the airport, shuffling into the crowds, recalling back to the memory of a father that never was.

 

The pain was sharp (it always was) but Maria held herself just in time to catch on JARVIS' confirmation on Rogers' status that _no_ , Miss Hill, Sir hasn't lost the Captain and that, _yes_ , he's very well on Earth. Would you like me to initiate contact?

 

 _No_.

 

The answer has always been no.

 

 _But why_ , Maria wondered as she took the final steps to the narrow hallway, _did she choose to end up here anyway?_  She looked at the familiar door to his apartment then, immediately recognising the worn scratch patterning near the knob, the faded colour of the wooden material following the whole building, the one she held not too long ago, while watching him crouched down and stacking piles of boxes away before turning around, gentle lips curling up into a smile as her name fell over his tongue.

 

That was nearly a month ago, she realised, not for the first time.

 

She'd been gone for nearly a month. 

 

And the first location she went to after coming back was his place. How freaking _fantastic_ , she could almost hear Barton's mocking remark rolling over, amused and not all at the same time, and the fingers that were free from holding the small box under her one arm curled disgustedly at her own completely unprofessional manner.

 

 _This is getting too personal_ , something even nastier snarled at the back of her head, but not before her own legs moved to carry her closer to the door. _This is it_ , she realised, her courage catching up to the bile stuck in her throat, one hand moving up for a knock.

 

There's hesitation, sure, before she forced it away.

 

And then, she knocked.

 

And knocked, and knocked, and knocked again.

 

 _Weird_ , she thought. Why won't he--

 

"Steve?" No answer.

 

 _Knock, knock, knock_.

 

"Rogers, don't do this to me. I'm--"

 

Her eyesight went down to her covered toes and she wondered again how she ended up _here_ , but her fists only hastened its pace, her mouth curling and uncurling into unfamiliar forms as the words kept on tumbling out. "Come on, come on, open the damn door," and suddenly, it was all too much, and the noise was getting a little louder than she intended it to be, and Maria can't _think_ , so she stopped and panned her fingers out against the solid thing, gathering her lost breaths back and squeezed her eyes shut. "Come on, Cap." She whispered helplessly, imagining better scenarios. "Don't-- don't ditch out on me."

 

Not right now.

 

Not tonight.

 

_Don't you know dad used to?_

 

Maybe she should've expected this, she thought absently, pressing her forehead lightly against the door; maybe she deserved to be stood out like this. What was she doing coming here anyway? Just to drop off a present? Expecting him to take it lightly? And not--

 

Maybe he's at Sharon's.

 

Maybe he's out on a date.

 

Maybe he's with Clint having fun and Pepper and everyone and drinking and _laughing_ and maybe. Maybe. _Maybe_. Maybe if she'd told him what's going on in the first place, she wouldn't be here and none of this would've happened. Maybe if she'd sent him home the first time he came to her apartment from out of nowhere or decline his idea for breakfast every Monday morning, she'd still-- she won't _be_ here.

 

 _Maybe_ , Maria thought. But.

 

There's no use saying that, she knew. Things have already happened. It was-- well, it's too late.

 

Maria once again sighed, mostly to herself, pushing back the hood and tugging on her loose ponytail. "He's not here, is he?" She asked the AI through her earbud a little pathetically, pulling it out before JARVIS was even given a chance to answer and letting it drop carelessly around her neck.

 

 _Stupid!_ She thought again, shuffling a bit.

 

How could she even _think_ \--

 

"Maria?"

 

There's a flinch, she thought. There's a _definitely_ a flinch, she added afterwards; felt her stomach somersaulted and her throat squeezing in on her. She knew that voice. Dammit, she'd know that voice _anywhere_ at this point. The steady ring to it, the just-enough innocence and authority when it's there. She's heard it too many times. When he chuckled through the phone, the sound of it as though it was sung as he laughed while they're face-to-face, the hushed conversations on the side they'd always have when things get a little too heavy and there's too many people, but he's only arguing in that lullaby tone that's both comforting and strangely endearing to her. Just her. 

 

She smiled, despite that she knew she probably shouldn't, and turned. She'd wanted to say _hello_ , or _hi_ , or maybe something even like, _it's good to finally see you again, it's been so long, huh?_  but all she could manage in the end was, "Rogers," because that's all she could offer, wasn't it? That was all she could make herself to say.

 

Even to him.

 

 _God_.

 

"I was just." She cleared her throat indifferently. "I thought--"

 

The hug was probably something she should've expected as well, among other things. Or she shouldn't. Because Maria completely _didn't_  when the next thing she knew was the helmet he was holding was on the ground, lying limply, and his large arms were around her, tight and warm and big, and his face was buried to the right side of her head, and she thought she might even hear him _sniffled_  and this was one of those moments, wasn't it? The moment where you never realise how much you miss that certain someone or something until he or she is right there in your grasp, right where they feel like they're meant to be.

 

"I'm so, so _angry_ with you," he whispered, pulling back just a little to catch on her silver eyes and Maria felt a jab stabbing at the bottom of her stomach, but it all melted away when he, unpredictably, landed a kiss near her eyes, down her cheekbones affectionately. Any other times, she would've probably smacked him away, but--

 

It was nice.

 

Hell, it was more than nice.

 

She voluntarily wrapped her arms around him in return, just as he whispered again, eyes closed, bowing his head to snuck it back to the place where her skin met her nape. "But _God_ , you're here. You're finally here."

 

She laughed then, a little, feeling lamely that she might even tear up a bit. Typical man. Trying to be professional, and he pulled off some stupid, dramatic _Nicholas Sparks_ act thingy. "I've missed you," he whispered again, and Maria tried not to shiver at the way his breath hotly collided against a spot.

 

She pulled him tighter, if that was even possible, dipping her head and pressing her nose on his neck. "I'm sorry," she returned, surprising herself that she didn't collapse from all the sincerity she was capable of. Her father angrily flashed before her eyes and she swallowed, racking her fingers into him if she could, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

 

It seemed as though he's cradling her into place; just, _holding_ her. And everything's frozen up. Time and people and places. Everything. Probably _his_ biggest nightmare, but--

 

Maria pursed her lips, felt the tip of his hair at the back of his nape and (silently) sighed contently.

 

When he finally let go of her, it was slow, careful, gentle. And Maria thought: goddamn, none of her past relationship were ever this intimate. And to think she wasn't even in a relationship with the guy. To _think_ , huh.

 

"I'm sorry," she repeated, probably for the final time, and focused on her fingers that were clasped within his large ones. She'd wanted to tell him she liked it there, like it that he's _holding_ her, but she didn't. Couldn't.

 

She can never could.

 

"You should be," he'd answered, his tone demanding attention but Maria didn't look his way. Not yet. "Three weeks, Maria. More than that, actually. You left me for three weeks when you said you'd be gone for a week, at _most_."

 

Left _him?_ Her one eyebrow shot up promptly.

 

"You were worried, huh?" She replied lamely, her lips, gratefully, didn't twitch into a smile. She didn't think he'd appreciate it if she started joking now.

 

"Worried?" He looked remorseful, which, she think, he shouldn't be. "I was damn near losing my head, _gosh_. I can't--" He shook his head, seemingly to come closer, "I can't believe you're here."

 

"I thought you weren't home." She naturally changed the subject, sniffling just a bit.

 

"Maria, you were--" He began, face screwing in pain. Not physically, she knew. "You were gone. For _so_ long. I-- I've waited--"

 

"I--"

 

"I'm mad at you. _God_ , I'm so mad at you." His eyes were sharp; sharper than it really should be. "But. I just. Seeing you here, _finally_ seeing you here. Do you know how _worried_ I was?"

 

"I could imagine," she quipped without thinking, wincing afterwards as the frown on his handsome face deepened.

 

"Jesus," he muttered, probably picking it up from her. Or Barton. Which was odd considering out of three of them, Steve was the only one who believed in, well, _God_. "You're so... _stubborn_ , do you know that?"

 

 _You've mentioned it a couple of times_ , she'd nearly said, before hushing herself up, clenching her jaw. "I thought..." She repeated, dragging her eyes down. "I thought you weren't home."

 

"I..." He blinked, re-focused, "I was at yours. I... I came back from DC, and I thought." He paused, and she took note on how he still hadn't let go of her. Or, as a matter of fact, appearing like he's never going to back away anytime soon. Not that she truly minded the proximity. But _still_. "I called Clint up. He said it's been a while since he's been keeping your place in check," _expected_ , something snorted "So, I grabbed the key and, well. You could probably guess from there."

 

"Hm," she nodded, then nodded at the box which fell from her grasp when he'd dive in to hug her.

 

"Maria, I--" He started, but she purposely cut him off.

 

"I bought you something. I..." frankly, she didn't know how more she could elaborate on that because it wasn't like she was _proud_ of the thing anyway. He lets go of her hand. 

 

"You bought me something," he repeated, picking the neatly wrapped box up.

 

"It's a radio." She explained, biting her lips. "For the apartment. I just--" she wet her mouth, watched as he carefully weighed it from hand to hand, "I knew you liked mine and I saw this and I thought-- it's from an antique shop. It's not _40s_ old, but, well. It works. I checked. Thrice."

 

Is she _rambling_?

 

Jesus Christ.

 

He stared at her, probably catching up on what she already knew. She'd wanted to roll her eyes, but decided against it when he only clicked his tongue, restraining that mouth of his from grinning wider, knowing she'd probably wiped it off in an instant if she tried hard enough. "I'm still mad at you."

 

 _You should be_ , she didn't say, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

"But," he started, slow, "I bought teas and coffee the other day and, um, I could serve it. Try on the radio and, you-- you should stay," he swallowed, and tried again, "I _want_ you to stay."

 

Maria tried not to ponder long on the fact that there are only two kind of coffees in the entire planet probably to which Steve Rogers deemed acceptable -- one where Pepper made, the other from the diner they usually had breakfast at -- so him, _buying_ coffee packs?

 

She gave him a thoughtful glance.

 

"You owe me this," his face hardened, just slightly, before: "Please. Just... _stay_ , Maria."

 

She did.

 

**

 

She didn't last an hour. Or at least, she _thought_ it was an hour. She didn't count on how long she lasted before her head lolled back against his couch and she ended up _sleeping_ on there instead. All that she knew was that he was beginning to open up about DC and Wilson while still dropping heavy hints he was very much upset with her (they resolved it when he was putting the cup of tea and coffee on the coffee table just as the radio sang to Fleetwood Mac's _Landslide_  and he'd said, "don't _ever_ do that to me again, okay, Maria? I-- I didn't like it." with his eyebrows tugging together childishly, his shining blue eyes glittering despite the shitty lighting he had. Maria mentally took note about confronting it to him at some point.

 

"You don't _like_ it," she said and watched him frowned, before she sighed, quick and smooth: "I can't promise you that, Steve." Because it's true; because she can't.

 

He's silent, sipping on his tea. "But." He tried, pausing. He knew it's true; she looked away.

 

"You don't deserve this." She muttered humourlessly, staring into her cup of coffee.

 

"Maria." He hushed, a warning maybe.

 

She watched him from the corner of her eyes, considering. "Why are you still here?"

 

"Because first, this is my apartment." He joked, grinning, a little tiredly, a little sadly. She liked him grinning. Smiling. Smirking. Maria noted again how she simply liked him. More than she ought to, honestly. "Second, unlike you, I'm not planning on going anywhere."

 

She rolled her eyes, just because. "So you _want_ to get stuck with me." It wasn't a question. At least, she didn't think it is.

 

He shrugged. "You're not the worst person I've met."

 

"Funny," she gave out, dry. "I'm not..." She shook her head, stopped, sighed. "You're... honest. I'm... not."

 

"A lot of people aren't."

 

"It's not the same."

 

"I'm angry, Maria. But not because of the secrets you swore you'll kept."

 

That's because you don't _know_ them, she'd wanted to point out, narrowing her eyes. 

 

"But the fact you just. You _left_ , and--" He stammered, paused. "I was worried. I couldn't stop _thinking_ \--" He closed his, seemingly resigned from saying anymore, until: "You never came back."

 

She stared at him for a long time, before: "There're stories. Of where I came from."

 

He glanced, stared. She blinked. "Don't believe any of it."

 

"I never--"

 

"I'll tell you myself," she swallowed, cutting him off. "One day," she nodded, promising. "One day I will."

 

"Maria, if you don't--"

 

"Steve, dammit. Shut up." She groaned, sliding him a sharp glare. "I _want_ do it, okay. Let me do it."

 

"Okay," He nodded, and took her hand in his and squeezed. The radio screeched then, he got up and--

 

Well, that was that.) when suddenly, the next thing was, she's waking up to the sunlight's filtering through the window and a blanket draping over her body and a post-it-note tack on the coffee table printed with scrawly handwritings stating:

 

 _Went for a run. You know where the coffee is_.

 

She thought about leaving. Just like that. It's cruel, she knew. But she's done worse. Until she's sitting on the couch, looking back to his empty apartment, staring at a sketch of Phil and Barnes and Pepper laughing on a page hidden under stack of books and realised the name of the day. She swallowed, blinked.

 

 _Monday_.

 

And stared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To note, if anybody missed it, the mention of _Monday_ [by the end of the chapter and several times throughout the update] is because Hill and Rogers usually got breakfast together on Monday, which was hinted because it's supposed to mean that it's not just some _casual_ day and yeah, it's kind of a big deal to the both of them. Maybe. I mean, especially if you missed like, _three_ weeks of them. *shakes head at Maria*
> 
> In any case, I don't know if Christina Elizabeth's going to conclude it all in the next chapter or going to add some more spicy drama to prolong our awesome collab thing, but either way: I'll be waiting for her instalment. Who knows, anything could happen.
> 
> Any ideas/thoughts would be lovely.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've heard the saying, "A little less talk and a lot more action?" Well, Steve needs a little more talk and a lot less contemplation about what he's going to say. :) But he really has no idea what he's doing so I'll cut him some slack. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, here's the next chapter. I hope you find it was worth the wait. "Gustin_puckerman" had some great ideas for the story so I decided to go on with it. And because it's actually a lot of fun to write a story with someone. :)

When Steve returned from his run, he was relieved to find Maria hadn't left. He'd half expected her to run after the night before, or at least try to hide from him for a while. But she had reminded him that it was Monday and they hadn't had breakfast together in a while.

Now he wondered if it was tension or elation he tried to scrub off as he washed up in the shower. Maria was back. She was safe. She was, goodness, she was as beautiful as ever. He wasn't sure his feelings. They'd been confusing him, and he was certain now they had long before he'd decided on that impromptu visit to Sam.

_"She makes you happy," had been the comment Sam had made that forced Steve to admit that Sharon was right._

_They'd been discussing Sharon's break up with Steve and at the mention of Maria Steve's thoughts led the discussion to what Steve found fascinating and frustrating about his friend._

_"How does not knowing where I stand with the woman constitute "makes you happy?" he asked Sam._

_"Why don't you know where you stand with her?" Sam asked._

_"Well, she hasn't really said anything, or acted in a way that seems like she's interested," Steve replied._

_Sam leaned back in his chair and gave Steve a frustrated look._

_"And you have?"_

_"Well, I haven't run off, promising to be back in a week and not calling when I'm not," Steve defended._

_Sam's look shifted and he looked more amused now, than frustrated._

_"Never?" Sam said._

_Steve opened his mouth to defend himself, but closed it when he had to admit that Sam was right._

_"That was different," Steve mumbled then finished his orange juice._

_They were silent for a few minutes as Sam gave him time to assess his reasons. Steve had known Maria longer than he had Sharon, and he supposed he thought he knew her well. She was all hard edges, no-nonsense. But she wasn't spiteful._

_He groaned as he tried to figure out what might be going through Maria's mind._

_"Things are so much more complicated now," he told Sam._

_"How so?"_

_"In the old days, you just met a girl you liked, and if she liked you, you got married and that was that," Steve explained._

_"How is it not that easy now?" Sam asked._

_"Now you have to figure out how the other person is feeling, what's going on in their mind," Steve sighed as he leaned back in his chair._

_"I like things straightforward," he complained._

_Sam started to laugh, not loud or hard, but enthusiastic enough to cause Steve to wonder what he'd said that was so funny._

_"You like work straightforward, you like battle straightforward," Sam said._

_Steve shook his head, not understanding at all what Sam was getting at._

_Finally his friend looked at him._

_"When was the last time you went up to the woman you love and, "straightforwardly" told her how you felt?"_

_Steve's first thought was of Sharon, he had been open with her about his feelings, but just as quickly his mind shifted to Peggy. All those years he wanted to say something to her, wanted to act, but he had so many excuses, and she'd been much more obvious about her feelings for him than any other woman had ever been._

_"Love is more terrifying than battle, Steve," Sam said. "Putting your heart on the line is more dangerous than putting your body in the line of fire."_

_Steve looked at him, a question on his face, so Sam went on._

_"In battle the worst you think that can happen is you can die," Sam explained. "But with people, they can break your heart, which, for some reason, is far worse than death."_

_Steve tried to understand what Sam was saying. He wished he'd seen his parents together, maybe then he'd see what Sam meant. But he had seen Bucky's parents, and what he saw didn't line up with what he saw between himself and Maria._

_He shook his head at Sam._

_"I just don't think it's supposed to be this complicated," Steve said._

_"What makes you think it's complicated?"_

_"It isn't?"_

_"Not if Sharon figured it out after only three dates," Sam smirked._

_Steve stood and cleared his plate from the table._

_"Look, I think you and Maria are cut from the same cloth," Sam went on. "Neither of you really knows how to proceed into something deeper."_

_"How can I be sure this is what she wants?" Steve expressed one of his biggest concerns._

_"You can't, until you ask her," Sam said. "And it will have to be you."_

_"Why?" Steve was curious._

_"Because you're Captain America," Sam said._

_"What does that have to do with anything?" Steve asked._

_Sam only shook his head._

_"You think she's intimidated?" Steve questioned, though he couldn't imagine Maria Hill being intimidated by anything or anyone._

_"Aren't you?"_

_Sam's question caught Steve up short._

But now that he thought about it, the water from the shower-head rinsing the soap from his body, he was more than intimidated. He might have missed it because it wasn't for the same reasons as when he was younger. He'd been intimidated around women because he never knew what to say, because they always looked at him condescendingly.

With Maria it was something different entirely. He was intimidated because she was strong and sure and, well, to be honest, she had no need of him. She was fine without him and, unlike other women, he'd have to make a case to her, wouldn't he?

As he toweled off he was forced to realize more things he just had never considered, like the fact he'd barely thought about Sharon in the past few weeks since the break-up. He hadn't called, hadn't thought to change her mind.

More importantly, now that he was allowing himself these thoughts, he hadn't worried about how her rejection would affect their relationship. He had run into her twice and neither time had he been truly apprehensive. But the thoughts he entertained at the knowledge that Maria might reject him, might not have the same feelings, were darker.

She was his friend. What if they couldn't be friends anymore? He had missed her while she was gone, missed talking to her, missed just sitting with her in the Tower as she worked at a table and he read a book over on the sofa. He missed the way he could just "be" with her, that he never had to impress her, that she didn't have to impress him.

But, now, he was going to cross the line, and the risk was so high that he wondered if it was even worth it. Sam had assured him it was, but Steve wasn't so sure.

When he walked back out into the living room, Maria was reading something on her iPad. She closed it and looked up at him.

"Breakfast?" she asked.

He had wanted to be aloof, even a bit stand-offish now that the initial rush of seeing her again had worn off, but his heart hijacked his responses and he smiled gladly at her and nodded.

They walked down the stairs together to his bike and Maria asked the question Steve had wondered how he'd answer.

"How's Sharon?"

Her voice was cool and unemotional, not unusual at all. Sam had told Steve not to read into the way Maria spoke, that she was used to being in command and not betraying herself. So Steve simply answered.

"We broke up."

Maria stopped on the stairs and looked back at him, a slightly surprised look on her face. Steve was more stunned by that than he would have been at any other reaction.

"Oh," was all she said, then she cleared her throat and turned back to continue down the stairs.

They rode on his bike to the café where they sat at one of their usual tables and Maria ordered her usual and Steve tried something new. He smiled slightly at the thought of her sneaking a bite off his plate like she did each time.

He was about to venture into the murky waters he'd promised Sam he'd dive into when Maria returned, but she spoke first.

"So, you broke up with Sharon," she stated.

"Well, actually, she broke up with me," he said, and was again surprised at the reaction, albeit a brief one.

"Sorry," Maria said. "I would have thought you two were perfect for each other."

Steve cocked an eyebrow and hoped to not overplay his hand.

"Really? Why?" he asked.

Maria took a long drink of the orange juice the waitress had brought over when they'd walked in. It was Maria's usual drink, and Steve thought it was nice that someone thought enough of her to remember that. He always left that waitress a larger tip.

"Well, mostly because of your connection with Peggy," Maria said.

"Tony thinks that's weird," Steve chuckled.

"Tony's weird," Maria smirked.

Steve gave her a big smile, then was interrupted by the arrival of their breakfast.

They ate in silence for several minutes and Steve realized that now he'd probably never get a good answer from her as to why she thought he and Sharon were so good for each other.

'Might as well dive in where angels fear to tread,' he thought as he swallowed down a bit of toast.

"She didn't think she could make me happy," Steve said.

He was certain he saw something in Maria's eyes, if only for a moment, and a pause in her motion in cutting her eggs.

Finally, she looked up at him, her face cool and masked.

"Is happiness really all that important?"

Steve stared at her in open surprise for a moment. What had happened to her over the previous weeks? Sure, she had always skirted this question since the first time he'd asked it, but this coldness toward the idea was new. He felt as if she had just put up a wall between them.

For several moments he considered excusing himself and sneaking away to call Sam for advice for what to do next.

She went on eating as Steve tried to come up with a response, one that she would find acceptable.

"You no longer think it is?"

"Did I ever?"

Steve felt as if the situation was quickly spiraling out of his control. Was it ever in his control when Maria was around?

That thought gave him pause for thought. No, it wasn't. She was always in control, always directing the conversation, and damn if he didn't let her.

Steve chuckled at that thought and his action earned an inquisitive eyebrow across the table.

He shook his head at her and took several more bites. He noted, with slight satisfaction, that he had managed to confuse her, at least slightly. She would now scramble for more control over it and Steve suddenly realized one of the things he liked most between them was this subtle power struggle. In fact, he thought he had liked it long before DC. Not in a Tony Stark, I need to push all your buttons, way. No, this was not that sort of thing at all, this was the two of them constantly reminding the other that they wouldn't be pushed around, they wouldn't cow to anyone, that each of their decisions was their own. Yeah, Steve liked that a lot.

As they finished breakfast, the waitress returned and asked them if they wanted any more coffee or juice. Maria shook her head and Steve snatched the bill up before she could even move her hand.

He smiled smugly at her dark look, knowing full well it was all for show.

"You paid last time," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but if you'd been here the past month, today would have been my turn," he said.

He thought for a second he might have gone too far, but she only smiled slightly and shook her head.

"You really are too much, Rogers," she said.

They walked back out of the restaurant and Steve realized he should say something before he took her back to her car. Sam would never let him live it down if he didn't.

Taking a deep breath, he took her hands in his. She looked down at them in surprise, but when she looked back up, her face was again a stoic mask. He wondered suddenly if she wasn't as terrified of this as he was.

"I went to see Sam while you were gone," he told her. "And I promised I'd be a man about this."

He looked away for a moment to gather his thoughts because he had discovered a new feeling that holding her hands like this gave him and now all he wanted to do was lean down and kiss her.

"Sharon was right," he said when he looked back at her. "She can't make me happy."

He was rewarded with a nervous flash through Maria's eyes before she glanced away herself.

"I," Steve said, but then both their phones started buzzing at the same time.

Steve groaned inwardly. That could only mean Natasha or Clint had something for them.

He pulled his phone out far more slowly than Maria who had snatched her hands away from his as soon as they were interrupted.

"Looks like we have to go, Captain," Maria said after reading Natasha's text about a possible lead on a HYDRA cell.

He stared at her a moment, a little put out at her use of his formal title. He almost bit back with hers, he still called her 'Commander' when they were on assignments like this one, but he didn't.

"It does, Maria," he said, with a softness in his emphasis on her name.

Her back was turned to him, grabbing up her helmet, but she hesitated for a moment again before she put it on and they mounted the bike to meet Romanoff.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria's finally figured out what makes her happy, while Steve tries to man up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musically inspired by: [Ed Sheeran's Tenerife Sea](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fktjAlczv8).
> 
> This update certainly took its time. Kissing based on [this gif](http://31.media.tumblr.com/97f8b7796a3516e6a4d894b23c8788fb/tumblr_mo2lypbY621snytm1o1_500.gif).

 

Steve tried not to think too much about the way Maria grasped herself around him as they manoeuvred through the traffics and cars on the way to the Tower. She shifted herself a little as they rounded up one corner, pressing her nose harder against the back of his shoulder blades. Steve stole a glance her way for that quick second as they moved, and smiled, just because; watched as she deliberately smiled back in return. It wasn't much of a huge smile, if it was at all; thin lips twitching by the corners in an awkward upward positions, but goddamn if it didn't do something to him. She wrapped her arms around his torso a little tighter then, and Steve felt as though his chest was set on fire.

 

Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he still wasn't quite certain.

 

**

 

They managed to arrive at the Tower in the length of eight minutes; JARVIS directing them immediately to the floor where Natasha and Clint must be at.

 

It wasn't until they passed several floors that Steve finally noticed how uneasy Maria's reaction had gotten. He briefly wondered if it was because of him; of what was close to happen a few minutes ago, and braved himself to step forward and linked their pinky fingers together. He'd to note that he might just favour himself into getting used to this; the little physical contacts, if she wouldn't mind - they've already passed the line where they're pretty much were comfortable around one another at a certain proximity, surely just another step closer wouldn't hurt. And he'd missed her. Oh, how he'd missed her.

 

She looked up, the hard worry disappearing for a second.

 

He smiled and didn't point out on how she hadn't taken her hand away from his. "You okay?" He asked as gently as he could, fearing he might be breaking one moment he couldn't afford on, well, breaking.

 

She shook her head, strained her lips. "Nothing." She exhaled out, glanced once at their skin contacting, touching. Still, she didn't take her hand away. "I'm fine."

 

He didn't say anything more, knowing that this wasn't the right time to dig up any truth, if they were; JARVIS' voice announced that they've arrived and this time, Steve took the braver step forward and pulled his hand away from her, hovering it instead at the small of her back while they walked together into the floor. There, Barton greeted them, brushing up on one of his arrows.

 

 _Must be new_ , he couldn't help to think.

 

"Took you long enough." Barton spat with no humour resting on his expression, but Steve gave no attention as he noticed long, clad-in-black legs dangling from the counter of the bar just right behind the archer's steady, slightly shorter form.

 

Romanoff smirked. "Hey there, old man." She hopped from the counter, the smirk in her green eyes seemingly increased as the seconds stretched. Maria, by the corner of his eyes, didn't hold any surprises to her expression; perhaps, like any of them, had expected the Widow's arrival sooner or later since she'd been gone missing those past few months back; but there's a tinge of curiosity lighting up in the former Commander's silver eyes, twitching on the corner of her thin lips.

 

The red-headed performed a little bow, mockingly. "I see 70 years still haven't caught up to you. How jealous am I?" She playfully snarked and Steve held out a smile in greeting, felt his chest slightly lightened at the familiar face.

 

"Natasha." He breathed out, nodding once. "It's glad to see you around New York."

 

"Glad to be here," she beamed back, coming closer.

 

Steve realised then how Maria had distanced herself at that point, naturally leading her way to stand nearer to the archer. Clint, however, stared on unimpressed, "I see you've finally decided to grace us with your presence."

 

Maria gave out a familiar glare that Steve had (unfortunately) identified to be meant as ' _shut it_ ' and he mindlessly caught Natasha's elbow while the red-headed spun, quirking her dark eyebrows together. "You were gone?"

 

Barton appeared like he'd wanted to snort. "Why don't you tell Nat all about your little escapade?"

 

Maria glared again, heat burning in her eyes.

 

"Something happened?" The Widow inquired and the former Commander finally gave out a calmer, yet distant look, clenching her jaw. Somewhere along the way, Maria's eyes caught with his blue ones, and Steve couldn't help to wonder if it's true guilt dancing behind those amazingly grey hues.

 

"Nothing I couldn't handle." She gave out the typical answer (Steve was tempted to roll his eyes, but he decided otherwise). "How've you been?"

 

"Better than that time in Shenzhen, 1995. Remember?" Natasha smiled, her eyes flickering prettily with remembrance.

 

Maria gave an odd look, recognition twitched the lines on her face, before her lips curved, and there's a soft smile. It wasn't too big, unlike Thor's when the big guy got really excited, or a shadow of Bucky's when the man's always laughing at Steve every time he stumbled upon a pebble back in the 40s. No, this smile, albeit the size, was one she gave out oh-so-genuinely to so few. A smile that gave out a sense of companionship, sense of true humour or gladness passing from one person to another. She sent this to him sometimes, though most of her smiles to him, when it happened, were always more private, he'd like to think; just a tad of shyness, a tinge of that one side of her she'd never likely to reveal to any other person. Like, it had only meant just for _him_.

 

"Natasha," Steve called again, urgency suddenly rang deep within his tone, recalling back exactly why they're here. "You called?"

 

"I did." The Widow didn't disagree. "I sent a _text_ actually, but since you're older than Michael Jackson's mom, I forgive you for your ignorance."

 

"Very funny," Steve remarked, just for the sake of it, shielding in a sigh while the red-headed passed on an amused glance towards the archer, who gladly returned it with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "So, HYDRA?" He looked around, "Where's Tony?"

 

Stark wasn't always 'invited' whenever any HYDRA hunt was involved (since, well, he wasn't a fallen agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, and HYDRA didn't have anything to do with him personally, except, well, for the death of his parents) but it had been agreed that since, technically, they're using most of Stark's resources to help them with their search, technology-wise, that Tony would be involved and kept-informed from time to time. Tony wasn't very demanding of the situation handed to him, which helped immensely, only shrugging and nodding on when they'd come to the terms together.

 

"Right here!" A voice chirped, and all of them whirled from their places as a hologram emerged from behind the bar, forming a smirking Tony, and Banner, working quietly in the background. _They're at the lab_ , he took note, watched as Bruce managed a smile and waved when Tony yelped, "Yup, that's Banner. Hey, don't be rude. Say hi, Hulky."

 

"Please don't call me that." Bruce said without conviction, sighing while he disappeared off from the sight the hologram would allow, perhaps resuming whatever work he'd to do further inside the lab.

 

"I'm sorry I couldn't join all of you kids upstairs. Bruce and I am working on something pre-tty special. You'll see." He shrugged on, pressing something onto his tablet and hummed. "JARVIS would fill in with the rest, and Romanoff's got the details. Supposed to hold some failed trials of Winter Soldier's projects before Barnes being the successful one, if you know what I mean. But, well, everything's a mystery until you get there." He looked back up, dark eyelashes fluttering, before stopping; grinning, "Hill. I see you've returned. Why don't you give Pep a call, huh? She missed you. She probably won't admit it, but she can't stop yapping about you. Seriously, what is this _witchery_ you have over her?"

 

"Maybe she's just sleeping with me." Replied Maria dryly, and though Steve mainly knew it's meant to be a joke, something at the bottom of his stomach twisted at the thought of Maria being in a relationship with Miss Pepper. Or, really, anyone else.

 

"Maybe. That _could_ happen though, right?" Stark hummed back thoughtfully, humour existed in his dark orbs. "Well then, you kids have fun."

 

The four of them began to shift and the hologram flickered. "Romanoff? Hill? Good to have you back." He nodded, "Stay for breakfast sometimes."

 

Natasha passed on a nod just as the hologram disappeared and JARVIS' voiced out then, pulling out a computer to display the exact locations and sending the coordinates right to their phones. "Like Stark said," Natasha began, scanning through the information received on her phone now, face pulled on serious, "Some files about failed Winter Soldier wannabes before they got the ideal one. Don't know, maybe he's been there?"

 

Steve's mood turned sombre at the mention of Bucky even being anywhere near his grasp (the thought of it could become overwhelming sometimes), just as the AI informed them that its readying the necessary gadgets and his shield as he'd most likely to need it for the trip.

 

Clint picked on his arrows, "You got this?"

 

Natasha shrugged. "We're just scouring." She told, "Three hours, the most. If something comes up..."

 

Barton nodded mutely just as the Widow trailed off, knowing exactly where the sentences would go. "JARVIS will you have you tracked. If anything's wrong, it'll pick up on it," Maria stepped in then, leaning herself against the bar. "Please try not to get yourself kill. Or cause any damage. We don't need anymore publicity than we've already gotten."

 

"Don't worry," Natasha smirked, patting him by his arms. "Grace Kelly over here'll make sure I behave, won't you Grandpa?"

 

"Would you stop with that?"

 

"Oh, and while we're on our way, we could go with some shopping. I saw this really nice suit that would've fit you, Steve. It has like, buttons and everything. Your favourite." She gave out while Steve further on restrained an eye-roll while she dragged them towards the elevator. "And guess who might've just set you up with a date tonight?"

 

Steve stopped, "What?"

 

"C'mon Rogers,  _move_. We're wasting time."

 

"Natasha, I'm not going on a date--"

 

"We'll talk plenty when we're in the car." She told him simply without missing a beat, not glancing once from the screen of her phone, shuffling them into the elevator. "Now hush. We're getting your shield, Cap."

 

Steve closed his mouth and pulled his attention quick enough to land on Maria, who stood by the counter, shoulders sagging, and dark hair falling from her loose ponytail. He'd wanted to smile, he really did, but his chest contracted instead when it was _her_ who smiled at him in return -- but it wasn't just any smile. Steve actually _feared_ this smile. It looked to be insincere, maybe even crossing over to something that he'd categorised as sadness; like she's forced to do it, or that she's holding something very important back, and it's weighing down on her, and it's about _him_. 

 

If only Steve could run over and asked her what was wrong.

 

He blinked, and the elevator's door shut tight.

 

**

 

Barton took her home after that.

 

An echo rung as she flopped the keys to her apartment on a decorative bowl someone-or-other bought for her once upon a time ago. Barton followed suit behind, giving a glance towards the place one more time before sounding out, "Steve's the one who usually keeps it in check. I water the plant, pick up the mails, but he's the one who assorts everything else." He goes straight to the kitchen then, specifically to the refrigerator -- perhaps aiming for the frozen pizza.

 

Maria nodded, and focused her gaze on the window overlooking the street outside, taking in on all of the silence that were suddenly tugging on her skin.

 

"I need to take a shower." She announced, finally brushing her hair loose and sighing out. "Get in work at twelve, and probably squeeze in a meeting at four. I need to talk to Pepper."

 

"You do that," Barton responded, shuffling to the microwave and punching in the buttons. "I'll just be here minding my own business."

 

She gave him a look.

 

"And pick up your car while you're in the shower. Geesh." He rolled his eyes out playfully, making a face. "I know what to do, woman."

 

Maria gave out a soured smile at that, making her way to her familiar bathroom right in the master bedroom. The door was closed, just as she's left it. She'd suspected Barton would be daring enough to open it, but the thought of Steve walking in her apartment, just hovering outside of her bedroom door, probably imagining her being at the other side of it, hoping, hoping and _hoping_. She didn't want him to hope. _She'd_ been hoping for her to return and seeing him occupied with, maybe, a new romantic partner. She hadn't cared who. She was just hoping he _would_.

 

It would've been easier then.

 

She sighed, walked in and turned on the lights. The blinds were still pulled close, and all of the books she never thoroughly read sat by her bedside table left to be forgotten. The placement where her extra guns and hidden warning alarms were as it should be, and Maria sat by her bed, staring at the wall as her mind fiddled with a crippled memory of green grass and dirts and sands.

 

It wasn't always a nice memory. (It never was.) The grass would soon wilt, the dirt would swallow her skin whole, and the sand would burn in her eyes; it comes with flashes, switching from somewhere when she was nine, to when she was sixteen, older to when she was twenty-two and back younger to when she was four, huddling behind a curtain, trembling while she covered her bruised knees and bleeding calves from the whole world. It returned back to Phil's gentle smiles, greeting her after she was released from the army, to her first S.H.I.E.L.D's assessment where Barton volunteered to correct her on her shooting. (She'd been offended, but who knew she actually _needed_ the practice.)

 

And then she was back in the dessert, holding up a bleeding man that was larger than he'd ever ought to, crying and shaking and _dying_  and telling her, "I can't die, Hill. Not right here. The wife just got my baby girl. _Our_ baby girl. God, she's beautiful." over and over again that Maria couldn't hear anything else for the next few days, still seeing his dead eyes filling with tears when they called out his death. The memory flicked and she was out of her standard green uniform, sixteen and young, with lips busted and a black eye, sneaking a glance outside the window when the teacher'd came to ask her why she'd been missing school so much. Her father had answered the door.

 

"Maria's just got so much potential," Mrs Harper continued, staring at her usually-sullen father, who was smoothly faking up a warm smile, dimples and all. "And the finals are just right around the corner, and I was just wondering if anything'd happened to her--"

 

Phil's voice cut through, and there were teas that she never drank sitting in between them, people shuffling on from both sides, busy and crowding in and _oh-don't-waste-more-time-we're-such-busy-people_. "You might've heard of us?" Her eyes zeroed in towards the man, wondering how he'd looked so calm when all she could see now was more destruction than the opposite. "You're going to be okay," Barton was speaking now, younger; back on their third mission together, nearing the end of her first year since she's officially held the S.H.I.E.L.D's badge, and she's staring at the blood of a six-year-old staining on the new uniform her S.O. Senior Agent May'd just given her a week ago. "We're jarheads. We're going to be _fine_."

 

His words echoed, once, twice -- _fine, you're going to be fine, Hill, it's all fine, we're fine_ \-- and then she saw red toppling over, and Romanoff hissing and Barton yelling and her own voice barking, "She's the Black Widow, Clint. How could you _trust_ her?" and it hurts like a bitch when the knife sliced her thigh and her captor twisted it; she winced and ordered the Widow to get out, "What are you doing? What are you-- get the _fuck out_ , Romanoff!" before the colours faded in and she was in that goddamn hideout staring at Fury's nearly lifeless body and soaking in to the continuos beeping of the machine alerting her that _he's good, he's not fucking dead_ , while the alarms signalled her of Rogers and Romanoff' exact locations; the medias labelling the goddamn supposedly sanctuary organisation S.H.I.E.L.D as freaking terrorists.

 

The one she once vowed her loyalty to.

 

(Although no. Maria really didn't vow her loyalty to anyone. Except dad. But he's different.)

 

It'd all been one gigantic of a mess, her life was, with little things in between barely patching up the already-terrible wreck but it all seemed _okay_  because right now, right then, under all of that explosions and threats and constant paranoia and trust issues, Maria saw blue eyes and golden eyelashes and pink lips curled into a smile while he's staring right at _her_ ; the morning ray filtering in from one side, highlighting his smile as he grinned wider, shading more onto his pinking cheeks, while his fingers casually snatched hers, like it was something they'd always done; something that they've established as acceptable.

 

"God Maria," he'd say to her the first time, the second time they'd been to breakfast with one another. "You're so stubborn, do you know that?"

 

She couldn't count the possible amount of times he'd repeated that to her. Sometimes it's nice just seeing him getting so frustrated over her. Sometimes it's a whole lot of frustrations too, on her part, because why would _he care_? What is it to him anyway? She was _just_ \--

 

Maria shut her eyes, inhaling in sharply.

 

The questions rolled in her head, loud and clear.

 

How had he come so far to the point that his involvement in her life had become more than she had ever anticipated? And she, well, she was actually kind of expecting _more_ of it. More of seeing him, more of talking to and with him, of their breakfast together, their small debrief before any serious missions -- more of just _being_ with him.

 

How had it come to the point where all of her nightmares managed to dissolve into seeing him smile in the end? 

 

Just one stupid smile, and everything was actually... _okay_.

 

 _Oh God, I think I'm going to puke_. She groaned, burying her face into her hands as her back slumped forward, nearly succumbing to gravity. She stayed hunched, just like that, for the next few minutes, rearranging her thought before swinging her feet into a standing position, making her way to the bathroom after long last.

 

The shower plummeted right down her back mercilessly and Maria washed away all of the sorrow and regret she'd been carrying with her for the last few weeks, mentally readying for some new ones she'll eventually be taking. The heat helped. Her skin reddened and her old scars brightened up while the fog captivated the whole room. It stayed that way for the next half an hour, before she could finally gather her breath and took the towel from the rack, preparing herself for the evening.

 

Barton greeted her in the living room with the television airing _Fox's Family Guy_ , her car keys in the decorative bowl and a half-eaten pizza on a plate sprawled across his laps. He laughed. She rolled her eyes.

 

The day, as she expected, went on as usual.

 

**

 

Steve would've thought that today might've been the day.

 

Surely he didn't know exactly  _when_ she would've returned from wherever it was that she'd ventured herself to, but Steve had hoped that when she _did_ (and he'd hoped _so_ much for the past weeks) he'd been able to express whatever it was that he knew needed expressing. He didn't know _what_ he was going to say (and he was supposedly so good with speeches and declarations, you know?) but he knew there was something to discuss between him and Maria.

 

Specifically, the _nature_ of their relationship. Or, really, where do they go from there.

 

Steve wouldn't mind just keeping whatever they had as it was (maybe that's just a small, little lie), but he also knew that if they would prolonged this... _act_ they seemed to be practising around one another for too long, he'd lost his damn mind for sure. (And he's got so much of his sanity already snatched from him as it was.) And he'd just been hoping--  _hoping_ \-- that perhaps he could convince Maria to take the day-off, sit them down, make up for the time they've lost and, well, _talk,_ he supposed. He'd promised Sam -- and Steve Rogers was definitely a man of his words.

 

But of course complications arose. 

 

The HYDRA facility him and Natasha checked out was just as Stark (and basically, everyone) expected. There were some graves of some poor men buried hastily now covered by thick grass somewhere in the backyard -- men that were taken and experimented on and didn't survive. Steve picked up on every nine Russian word covered the files and walls but nothing a solid-enough evidence for anything; Natasha being the translator. There were some bits that suggested Bucky might've been there, but. Nothing was ever certain.

 

What ever happened to Bucky, he could certainly played the character of a ghost well.

 

It took a moment for Steve to understand that Bucky might've needed a time of his own, found out what he's lost. At least he's got the freedom to search and rediscover whatever that's happened, albeit alone; unlike Steve who'd been, technically, on lock-down and on-watch 24/7 after S.H.I.E.L.D defrosted him and woke him up. 

 

Like Maria'd said once, Bucky'll find him once he's ready.

 

And Steve had true confident that Bucky will. (It's a thing they have -- finding one another.) And he, well. He'll just be ready when Bucky does.

 

Anyway, everything after the short trip was mostly routine. The disappointment, the short report they have to give to JARVIS, any files or documents or hardware was taken immediately under Stark's private eyes (accessible only to the members of the Avengers, and/or anybody who was given the clearance to go through it if necessary). Steve was planning to take off and catch up with Maria as soon as he'd stored the shield at the storage, until, of course, he found himself being dragged by Natasha for... _shopping_ , was it?

 

Because it honestly felt more towards _kidnapping_ than it was just buying clothes.

 

(Normally, he'd enjoyed moments like these -- getting to _bond_ , or whatever; it's good for the team, and it's good to feel like he actually _have_ friends that were presence -- but he was sorta having an internal crisis that he didn't need to share with the Widow on the moment, predicting already on how she would react.)

 

Apparently, she had an agenda of her own.

 

(She wasn't kidding about the date tonight. Figures.)

 

Steve still didn't fully know how he'd escaped, all that he knew right now was that it's eight o'clock, the sky's dark, he's climbing up the stairs with the light blazer (was that what the saleslady kept on calling it?) fitting his body and his fingers fiddling with the top buttons of his blue shirt. The pants were slightly uncomfortable (gosh, things people put themselves in nowadays) but nothing that would've been able to slow him down.

 

Finding her office was easy.

 

The guard who'd seen him didn't even blink when he walked pass, merely just nodding on and smiling as a form of greeting.

 

The door of her office was surprisingly open when he'd arrived, he noted of the absentee of mostly every other officers (including Nancy, Maria's secretary) on the floor and headed straight towards where he knew he'd find her. He nudged the door just a little to give himself more access to her private room and couldn't help the smile on his face from blooming bigger when he spotted her.

 

 _Finally_. Something whispered. _Finally_.

 

It felt like years since he'd last seen her, when he obviously knew he'd parted with her just this morning. Steve suddenly yearned for the day-off he imagined they'd have, wondering when again will the opportunity rises. 

 

"Hey," he began, a low whisper, thudding his knuckles against the door as soft knocks.

 

She turned around partially, raising a curious brow, before having her lips curled into a small, (maybe) excited smile. "Hi." With the lights in her office shining just nicely on her, Steve saw the shadows being casted as her cheeks rose with the smile, her eyes crinkling slightly by the side. He stepped forward when she didn't deny, nudging the door close gently behind him. "I thought you'd be busy all evening."

 

He shook his head slowly to her statement, not really intending to bring up his (or Natasha's) date night plan for the evening. 

 

"I was wondering if..." Steve began, clasping one hand at the back of his neck and pinching the skin around it. He sighed afterwards, gave up his initial thought and tried again: "I wasn't expecting you'd go straight to work."

 

She actually paused, stopped shuffling the files on the table; an amused glint colouring her eyes. "You didn't _expect_ it?"

 

He smiled. A little. "I'm not _surprised_ , if that's what you mean." The subject of her being a workaholic was not something new. He didn't wholly favour it, sure, but it wasn't uncommon. And he'd come to accept it somewhat. He'd like if if she'd just use her days off more. "I just didn't expect it. What did Pepper said?"

 

"She didn't expect it either." She told him earnestly, and Steve dared himself to stood by her desk, having a clear view of the files and papers sprawled over the top. "But it's been too long. The office's a mess." She half-shuddered, brushing fallen strands of dark hair behind her ears, tacking more papers and stapling it together. Steve looked over to her then, studied her moves. She was standing, which signalled she had the intention of leaving, or heading somewhere else, but her busy posture suggested that she might choose to never move from where she's standing.

 

Steve sighed. "You're working yourself too hard."

 

She scoffed. "It's only been a day." A pause, "It hasn't even reached 24 hours."

 

" _Exactly_ ," he chuckled, stepping closer. "And you just got back--"

 

"Exactly." She repeated, firm. "Which meant I have to clean up whatever messes that's been toppling over since I was... not around."

 

"And what did Pepper said about this?" He asked aloud, knowing that one of Maria's new struggles into working as an officer in Stark Industries was that she actually had a _friend_ , who was also her  _boss_ , that would personally marched her way down here if only to get her out of the office. Steve would've done it himself if he could, but Pepper's always a tad braver at this than he will probably ever be.

 

"You wouldn't dare," she narrowed her eyes, munched her lips.

 

He smirked, teased. "You know I would." He chuckled then, when she let out a loud groan of frustration and shot him a glare. "Maria, come on. This is surely not healthy. How long are you planning to work here until JARVIS itself informed Pepper that you haven't checked out from the building?"

 

"For as long as I could." She replied. "Plus, Stark's supposed to take Pepper for a dinner out so I thought--"

 

"Maria."

 

She shot him an exasperated look, unimpressed, before Steve sighed again, never willing the smile on his face to vanish completely from sight. "You look tired," he noted, now brushing one hand behind her right arm as she lowered her head, her forehead nearly thudding against his chest. 

 

"There was a meeting," she shook her head without looking up; and judging from the tone she's using, it was safe to assume she was particularly stressed out about the subject. "The men..." She exhaled, "Fucking idiots."

 

Steve hummed in acknowledgement, gently pulling her closer while his hand went up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her. Her shoulders dropped a second later, seemingly to give up to his touches and a tough knot released itself in Steve's stomach; he smiled, this time both out of relief and gladness, and murmured, "Then shouldn't you be glad you were there?"

 

"Idiots," she repeated still, this time emphasising more on the fact that she was indeed tired.

 

"You've had a rough day."

 

"It's..." She hesitated, but only for a second, and paused, before: "It's better now." She lifted her chin up, silver eyes meeting with his blue ones, and pursed her lips, lengthening the seconds. "Thank you."

 

"Anytime," he replied back, low, his gaze accidentally flickering to her mouth for that _one_  splitting moment, until: "Um." Clearing his throat, Steve bit his inner cheek, began, "C'mon. We should get out of here."

 

"We?" Her eyes twinkled suggestively, intending to tease probably.

 

"Yeah," he answered honestly. "We." He frowned for a minute, clicked his tongue and started again, "Maria, I--"

 

She held out her hands close to his chest, stopping him mid-sentence, eyes gazing downwards. "Steve."

 

"Maria," he convinced himself he wasn't whining. Really. "We've got to talk about this sooner or later."

 

"Talk about what." She responded, harsh, and Steve's brows tugged together, knowing well of this tactic.

 

"You know what." He ground out. "About-- about _us_."

 

"There's an _us_?" 

 

"There isn't?"

 

She frowned deeper, and he knew he'd got her good. "I'm not," he told, licking his lips. "I don't want to fight, Maria. But. I-- We can't keep avoiding this. I-- I don't think--"

 

"You're right." She replied, taking a step behind, indirectly twisting his insides. "We need to talk."

 

"I--" _I'm glad you could understand_ , he didn't say, staring at her. He would've said it was amazing to see her pulling up her (former) Deputy Director mask so skilfully in such quick seconds, but he couldn't. The idea that she was beginning to push him away was prickling nastily against his skin, and Steve swallowed. Hard. She blew out a breath, "I'll start."

 

He blinked.

 

She stared at him. "I don't think it's wise for us to see each other anymore."

 

He blinked again. "What."

 

"You heard me," she replied, monotone, and carelessly tugged on her shirt, as though she was delivering today's weather. "We're supposed to be professionals. It wasn't supposed to be..." She inhaled deeply, and Steve realised the way her fingers trembled before she hid it away, shielding it from his view. "We weren't supposed to be more than good acquaintances."

 

"Maria--"

 

"No. I--" She bit her lower lips, sniffled. "I think I know what makes me happy."

 

He frowned, wondering how suddenly that was relevant, until she gazed away, swallowing. "And I don't like it."

 

He stepped forward then, a little angry, a little disappointed, a little brave and well, a little stupid _too_ because he could almost guarantee that this wasn't normally how he'd approach these stuff, if ever, but _god_ if he didn't feel all of those. How easy was her to just _say_ it, to just _shed_ everything they've ever shared like papers stripped through the middle and tossed onto the pavements. "Maria," her name rang loud against his tongue, darker, " _What_ makes you happy?"

 

Her breath hitched.

 

Steve carefully took her arms, flicking his thumbs over her elbows. 

 

"Among other things," she didn't back away, only squeezing her eyes shut before opening them, whispering out: "Being with you does that." She swallowed again, finally lifting her eyes to face him directly. "Being with you... makes me... surprisingly happy, and it's..."

 

"Scary?" He replied a little breathlessly, feeling like he'd fall if it wasn't for her who was still managing to stand upright.

 

"Try fucking terrifying." She kinda snorted, brushing her cheek.

 

"Maria," he breathed one last time, closing his eyes before diving in to capture her lips with his. It took her a moment; and then Steve could feel her fingers racking to his neck up to the hair at the back of his head while her lips pressed harder, their tongues later on darting out and tasting one another and Steve felt his stomach made a sneaky flip, encouraging him to hold her tighter, kept her closer. She didn't seem to be fighting back.

 

"Listen to me, listen to me," he breathed out, pressing their foreheads together when he's managed to pull away, cradling her jaw within his calloused hand. "I'd like... to _be_ with you. I'd like to try this. Try _us_ out." He pressed a soft kiss on her lips again, restraining a sigh while she played on a spot behind his ear with her fingers. "If-- only if you want this."

 

She ducked her head, "Steve, I--"

 

"Maria, no. I--" He held her face again, now staring straight into her eyes. "We'll do this together. Everything. From the start. It's scary and it's going to be new, but. I _want_ to do this." He closed his eyes then, shook his head. " _God_ , I want to do this so bad."

 

She chuckled against him, pressing herself closer. "Okay. Okay."

 

"Okay?" He searched for her, wide eyed.

 

She nodded, gazed at his lips, smiled. "Just kiss me, you big idiot."

 

And he did.

 

**

 

"You wanna know what makes me happy too?" He asked when she caught his hand while they're cruising lazily along the busy street of New York; the lights of the city shining against her dark lashes as she stared up at him, the wonder loud in her gaze. He smiled, bend down to steal a quick kiss and continued: "Every time I realise you exist."

 

(She told him to shut up.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm entertained by the idea that Steve's close to Natasha while Maria's always been comfortable with Clint. I don't know, okay. Anyway, let me clear up on some references I've put into the update above (particularly the flashback sequences):
> 
> \- Mrs Harper is Maria's teacher who visited her at home when she didn't come to school several days.  
> \- The dessert was supposed to be a remembrance of one of the first few time when she was stationed in the Middle East as a United States Marine Corps.  
> \- Jarheads referred to marines. (And yes, Barton's a jarhead too. Which was among one of the many reasons they got along well when she first started SHIELD.)  
> -Phil recruited her immediately after she's done with her third tour.  
> \- Hill wasn't particularly fond of Romanoff when she'd first signed in to S.H.I.E.L.D  
> \- Hill's S.O. [supervising officer] was Melinda May's mom. Which was why I labelled as Senior Agent May.
> 
> I guess that's it. In any case, I'm hoping Christina Elizabeth would be willing to post an epilogue of some sort to this, or if she has anymore ideas, I'd be more than welcome to hear it. But if this is it, then this is it. This collaboration has been such an exciting experience and I thank you all once again for your lovely comments & opinions. Thank you.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, after some time spent trying to figure out how to "epilogue" this story, I finally have. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bazillion thanks again to "gustin_puckerman" for deciding to co-lab with me. It was really so much fun. :)
> 
> A special thanks to my good ff friend, still waters, for inadvertently giving me the idea for this story. She suggested I write some fluff to overcome my writer's block for this one chapter of my HIMYM/Avengers cross over story. So it was either this or a puppy story. :D This won.
> 
> Thanks, as well, to all the readers and commenters and folks who 'liked' the story. We appreciate them. Remember, in fanfiction, "liking" and commenting are the only pay the writers receive. :)

Maria pulled her thick wool sweater tightly around her to ward off the late spring morning cold as she sat down on the top step of the porch outside her cabin. She breathed the mountain scent deeply and relaxed as it seemed to permeate every part of her. Behind her she heard the door open and Steve step lightly onto the porch. He was amazingly quiet for someone of his size. She didn’t turn around but continued to stare at the forest around them as the trees and bushes slowly became more than vague dark shapes they had been during the night. Steve settled behind her and Maria relaxed into his warm embrace as he wrapped the quilt from their bed around the two of them.

“G’morning,” he whispered into her ear, not desiring to intrude on the silence afforded them here any sooner than needful.

“Almost,” she whispered back.

He placed a gentle kiss on her neck, then stared with her toward the east and waited for the morning light show to start. This had become his favorite thing, he had told her; this early morning ritual she engaged in whenever she visited the cabin. He was the first person she’d ever brought here, though she hadn’t told him that yet. She had never considered bringing any of her former lovers here. In fact, none of them had even known of its existence. It had always been her place to hideaway, or runaway, as the case may be.

But when Steve had confided in her that he had never seen a forest until he’d joined the Army, Maria had felt a tug on her heart to bring him here. It had just seemed right. Still, it had taken her a few months to work up the courage. When he’d returned to New York badly beaten, emotionally as well as physically, from what he had hoped would be a helpful lead on Bucky’s past, she couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of her mouth.

“Come away with me while you recover.” She had surprised herself by her request.

Steve was so easy to give herself over to, her whole self. She tried to hold back, and he knew she did, but he never pushed. Now that they were an “item,” which was as much as Maria could commit to, he patiently waited. It made Maria feel like a bitch sometimes, but he told her to be patient with herself, that they were both learning how to do this and they would learn better together.

As the pitch black of the pre-dawn sky slowly melted, revealing the pinks and purples of dawn, Maria felt Steve sigh silently and she smiled. It had been a good week, and she, for once, truly hated to return to the so-called reality of Stark Inc. and the work of privatizing global security. But she didn’t say those words to Steve, she had a feeling he already knew, and that he understood, maybe even felt the same.

The sky grew brighter and the forest came alive with the sounds of thousands of birds. Maria closed her eyes and listened to their morning calls. It was such a contrast to the city they would return to this afternoon and Maria wanted to enjoy it as long as possible.

Steve shifted behind her, pulling her more tightly against him then kissing the side of her head.

“I’m so glad you brought me here,’ he said, his voice louder now that the forest noises had increased.

Maria turned to look up at him and was taken, as always, by the depth of emotion Steve’s smile conveyed. He was a remarkable man. She might spend the rest of her life wondering why he had chosen to give his heart to her, but she also planned to spend as long as this lasted, and she was certain Steve already had forever in mind, to show him he hadn’t given it foolishly.

“You’re welcome,” she replied.

She rested in his embrace for a few more moments as they watched the sun begin its ascent above the tree line. Then she turned to him.

“Time for some hot chocolate before we pack up?” she asked.

His face showed a dissatisfaction with having to “pack up,” but he nodded and rose, then offered his hand to her to help her up. He touched her face and leaned down to kiss her. It was slow and sweet and warmed her far more than the blanket or sweater had.

“Next time, let’s skip the drama before deciding to come back,” he smiled at her.

“I think that’s a very good idea, Captain.”

She opened the door and he followed her into the cabin.


End file.
